


The Confusion of the Moment

by Nefertiti_22002



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Break-up sex, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7334263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to a prompt on the Kinkmeme requesting that the scene in which Strange declares the he is parting from Norrell and "Norrell looks so helpless and so sweet and so desperate for him not to go" that they end up having break-up sex. How could I resist that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confusion of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> (This fic was posted on the kinkmeme as "The Stubbornness of Two Magicians," but I found a better title.)

Mr Norrell had offered Mr Strange everything he could think of, hoping to prevent the other magician from going off to pursue his own brand of magic. An equal partnership, public praise, complete and even immediate access to his Yorkshire library. He had said that Mr Strange’s humiliating review of Lord Portishead’s book on the revival of England Magic need not be retracted by its author. He had pointed out that they were the only two real magicians and that their happiness was based on being able to work together and above all to talk about magic. Such blandishments, some of which it cost him such effort to offer, were to no avail.

He watched anxiously as Mr Strange wavered in his determination to leave, tempted mightily by all that Mr Norrell had offered. At last, however, came the decision, kindly worded but cruel in its effect: “I am honoured, sir. You are not usually a man for a compromise, I know. But I think I must follow my own course now. I think we must part.”

Mr Norrell closed his eyes. For a moment it crossed his mind that he might at last confess to Mr Strange that he had summoned a Fairy to resurrect Miss Emma Wintertowne. He might describe the disastrous consequences of the bargain he had so unwisely made with the Fairy in exchange for her return to life. That might convince Mr Strange that his views of magic were misguided and dangerous and that if he persisted in trying to summon a fairy servant, he risked being tricked in a similar fashion. Mr Strange might finally come to realize that book-based, modern magic was the vastly better option. In that case, they need not part. They could become closer than ever, forming a powerful and permanent partnership that could dominate and guide English magic.

It even crossed his mind that Mr Strange might be willing to help him find a way to rescue the young lady from her enchantment. He nearly opened his mouth to speak. But no, the thought of revealing his betrayal of his own principles horrified Mr Norrell. Besides, Mr Strange was just as likely to be angered that his master had concealed such a thing from him for so long. He might consider that their entire relationship had been based upon a dreadfully hypocritical deception. As indeed it had to some extent, Mr Norrell recognized, though surely not the entire relationship; they shared a genuine passion for magic. No, such a confession was so disgraceful that it would more likely confirm Mr Strange in his decision than to draw him back into a friendly partnership.

He felt Mr Strange’s hand press his arm briefly and heard his voice say, “Come, sir.”

Mr Norrell opened his eyes and saw that Lucas and Andrew had brought in the tea-tray and were arranging the meal on the low table between the two magicians’ knees. Lucas glanced at him with an expression of concern, but he quickly looked down at his task when Mr Norrell noticed.

The servants withdrew, and England’s only two magicians took tea together for the last time. The last time known to the English public, that is. What meals they might have taken after the mysterious disappearance of Mr Strange’s Dark Tower and Mr Norrell’s Hurtfew Abbey, a little over two years later, would remain known only to a few.

At first there was no conversation at all. Mr Norrell had no appetite and ignored the tea and sweet biscuits and little savoury sandwiches laid out for them. He felt incapable of movement and stared with heavy-lidded eyes into the fire. 

Mr Strange watched him for a short time and then sat forward, pouring for both of them and transferring some of the sandwiches onto a small plate. He took a sip of tea and paused, hoping that Mr Norrell would at least drink some tea. Mr Strange tried to think of something to say, but instead he simply bit off half of a sandwich and chewed it. He hoped the situation could move into something more resembling a normal tea-time, but it soon became obvious that Mr Norrell was not going to follow his lead. It was not that his ex-teacher was resentful or angry. He simply had released all his emotions and energy into that last long, eloquent plea and was now drained of all hope.

Mr Strange dithered for a while and then picked up Mr Norrell’s empty plate and placed some of the sweet biscuits on it, proffering it to him across the table. Mr Norrell finally looked up into his eyes and down at the plate. He slowly reached out and took it. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Ordinarily when the two paused in their work for tea, Mr Strange ate all of the sandwiches and Mr Norrell, having a sweet tooth, most or all of the biscuits. Now he picked one up and took a bite, chewing slowly and without enjoyment and returned it unfinished to the plate. Out of habit he lifted his cup and sipped some tea before immediately setting it down and staring at the table.

Mr Strange finished the first sandwich and ate another, wondering if he should just continue this silent, dreary meal for a little while and then take a brief, polite leave of his former teacher. Yet that seemed too cruel, and they were so used to talking with each other almost without cease whenever they were together that he could not bear to refrain from speaking.

Mr Norrell looked so desolated that Mr Strange finally asked, “Do you not feel well, sir?”

Mr Norrell shook his head, staring at him in slight surprise. “No, of course, I do not feel well. I am miserable! I see what our future will be like. Nothing I have said has led you to change your mind, and yet by creating this rift between us you will make yourself miserable as well.”

Mr Strange’s head drooped. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, but miserable to what degree? Will I really be more miserable this way than if I remained as your pupil or partner and we increasingly resented each other’s beliefs about magic and quarreled more and more often over them? Perhaps I will, but I am convinced that we would eventually part anyway. At least now we can part as friends, or at least I hope so. I certainly consider you a friend, and after all, we will not become strangers. We shall both, I assume, continue to use our magical talents for the good of the country. We shall no doubt meet in social situations and in the offices of those government officials who desire our services.” He was about to say that Mr Norrell would be invited to dine with the Stranges occasionally, but he wondered what Arabella would think of that idea. He paused before continuing. “I hope I am not being presumptuous in assuming that you will not resent my decision to the extent that you will refuse to allow me occasional access to your library, at least when my projects for the nation require it. We shall, in short, interact, if on a less continuous and intensive basis.”

Mr Norrell listened sadly, realizing that all this was true, but the pair’s altered situation would be far from adequate, at least as far as he was concerned. He felt near despair and blurted out something that he previously never believed his would reveal to his pupil.

“Mr Strange, continuing as friends and seeing each other occasionally may be satisfactory to you, but to me … to me it is a dismal prospect. It is not just that I admire you as a gifted magician and take pride in the part I have played in your education and had long planned that we would eventually become professional partners. I hope you will not be upset … I have a confession to make … I … I love you. Now that you have made your final decision, my telling you this cannot affect your actions. I do not confess this with any expectation that it would change your mind about leaving. On the contrary, I assume it will strengthen your resolution to part from someone you would consider to harbour an unnatural passion for you. I am telling you this simply to make it clear that any reluctance I might have to meeting you in future would not stem from anger. Quite the contrary. Such a reluctance would result from my pain at such meetings. I expect we shall indeed encounter each other in the normal course of our careers, but our interactions will only faintly resemble the companionship and collegiality that we have hitherto enjoyed. Despite the fact that I have never expected you to return my … my affection, I have been very happy and even nearly content during our long relationship as master and pupil.”

Mr Strange’s eyes had widened slightly when Mr Norrell declared his love, but after that point he had listened sadly, nodding at intervals.

“Sir, I have been aware of your feelings for me for some time now.”

Mr Norrell’s face fell. “Ah, so that is one more reason why you would wish to leave me. I understand all too well.”

Mr Strange shook his head firmly. “No, not at all. Early on, I had no idea that you might love me. I knew very little about relations between men. I was aware that there was some sort of law with horrible penalties for men caught having carnal exchanges with each other, but I never really thought about it. I simply took it for granted that such actions were indeed perverse, unnatural, purely based on lust and promiscuity. I never questioned that the government was correct in imposing such harsh punishments.

“It was not until I was away at war, in the Peninsula, that I gained some insight into the real nature of such exchanges between men. Some of them that took place around me were quite casual. Quick, furtive couplings in situations which were barely private. They shocked me at first, and yet I realized that these men had few alternatives for satisfying their inevitable desires. Often they were in the countryside, far from any women—and many of them were married and long separated from their wives, as I was. Even in towns, it was clear that the local brothels were full of women most likely carrying the pox. These men turned to each other of necessity.

“Yet I gradually became aware that occasionally I encountered pairs of men who were genuinely in love with each other. They formed couples as close as any married man and wife could be. I was no doubt a trifle shocked at that as well, but gradually I found that I could not condemn such men, and I grew to question why our nation should have such laws forbidding passion between two males. Particularly since I discovered that in many areas, particularly those ruled by the French and hence now covering much of the European continent, buggery is not considered a crime. That quite surprised and impressed me.”

Mr Norrell sighed deeply. “Yes, so I understand. At times it crosses my mind that I am aiding the side in this war that might put me to death if I were allowed the chance to follow my quite private desires, desires that would hurt no one were I to take courage and fulfill them. Still, England is my homeland, and I do my duty. Moreover, I have never myself violated that law, unjustifiable as it is, and I doubt I ever will.”

“I can imagine that such a situation would gall you, though, sir, and I admire your willingness to serve your country nonetheless. Indeed, I came to see the irony in my own assistance to an English government that would consider my friend and mentor, someone who is a genuine hero of the nation, unnatural and even a criminal.

“At any rate, when I returned to England and resumed my studies with you, my new insights eventually led me at last to recognize that your feelings went beyond the affections of friendship. That you had conceived a deep love of that sort for me. At first I felt somewhat uncomfortable about it, but you never mentioned or hinted at it, and I became used to the idea. You may be sure that no revulsion against such a love has led to my decision to leave you. On the contrary, I have hesitated to break with you precisely because I did not wish you to believe that I was punishing you for feeling attracted to me. As far as I am concerned, it is not at all offensive or unnatural. Please believe me when I say that your love for me has nothing to do with my desire to strike out on my own as a magician.”

Mr Norrell stared at him, desperately wishing to believe him. “Truly, Mr Strange? You do not despise me for my feelings?”

“Truly indeed, sir. I do not in the slightest despise you.” Mr Strange fell silent for a time, nervously turning his spoon over and over between his fingers. “In fact, I believe that I have … fallen somewhat in love with you since my return. That is to say, I believe I could return your affection if I allowed myself to do so, but I simply cannot leave or betray Arabella. I suppose that is another reason why you and I must now be apart. I fear that working alongside you would inevitably lead to deeper affection and temptation.”

Mr Norrell stared at him during this speech, his eyes slowly brimming with unshed tears. “Oh, Mr Strange!” he replied in a small voice, thinking of how close he might have come to happiness—much closer than he had assumed—and yet how far beyond reach it remained.

Seeing his tears, Mr Strange thought no further but rose and moved to kneel by his chair, pulling the man into his arms. “Gilbert … Gilbert, I am so sorry that it has come to this!”

Mr Norrell drew slightly back and stared into his eyes. “Could you not … stay … under the conditions of equality that I have offered? Now that I know that you share some of the feeling of affection I have for you? I assure you, I would not press you to betray Mrs Strange in any way. I hope I have not implied any such thing in the years since I first … fell in love with you. I have tried to conceal my feelings, though obviously I was not entirely successful at doing so. It occurs to me that perhaps we could meet at your house, where we would both feel the constraint of Mrs Strange’s presence and hence behave more formally with each other. I would even be willing to keep some of my books there temporarily, so that you might have the leisure to read them when you wished. It’s just that … I cannot bear the thought of seeing you so rarely!” He put his hand up and ran the fingertips gently down the front of Mr Strange’s jacket.

“But the frustration, Gilbert, and the temptations! I just wish …” He grasped Mr Norrell’s hand, paused, and then kissed its palm gently. When Mr Strange released Mr Norrell’s hand, the other magician stared at him briefly in surprise and desire and suddenly pressed his mouth against Mr Strange’s lips.

Mr Norrell nibbled tentatively at those lips, which initially did not respond. Soon, however, they began to move slightly against his. 

Abruptly Mr Strange pulled his mouth free. He looked into Mr Norrell’s eyes and murmured, “Gilbert … we really … we should not …” He trailed off at the expression of dismay and confusion on Mr Norrell’s face. Mr Strange panted and looked down, shaking his head, but abruptly he resumed the kiss. Mr Norrell began to whimper faintly as the tip of Mr Strange’s tongue flicked delicately against his mouth and finally slid inside. Mr Norrell raised his hands and ran them through Mr Strange’s hair, pulling his head more firmly against his own.

Mr Strange in turn cupped one hand over the back of Mr Norrell’s wig and slid his other arm around his waist, hugging him hard and deepening the kiss. Mr Norrell struggled to accept the invading tongue and understand how to move his own around it. He slid forward in the chair and began to rock slightly, pushing his erection rhythmically against Strange’s stomach. His whimpering became louder and more eager.

At last they broke the long, desperately eager kiss. Mr Norrell gasped, “That was … that was the best feeling I have ever had. Even more than when at night I … I … you understand.”

Mr Strange nodded, his hands moving over Mr Norrell’s body, unbuttoning garments and searching beneath them. “Yes, I know what you mean.” He grinned. “But surely this wasn’t better than THAT! How could kissing be better than making yourself come?”

“Because it’s with you! I’d much rather be doing this with you, even if it’s just kissing, than doing that for myself.”

Mr Strange’s eyebrows went up, and he grinned. “I must be a far better kisser than I ever realized! Which raises the question, what will you say after I’ve, oh, sucked your cock?”

Mr Norrell briefly experienced a sort of delighted embarrassment at such boldness and language. After a moment of thought he replied shyly, “Well, I’m sure I should consider that even better.”

Mr Strange laughed and continued to run his hands about inside Mr Norrell’s clothes as he loosened them. Mr Norrell wriggled in delight. He spread his legs more broadly and slumped down, reaching down over the edge of the chair and groping down Mr Strange’s body until he found the man’s erection stretching out the soft front of his breeches.

“Oh, Mr Strange, you are … most impressively blessed!” 

Mr Strange laughed breathily. “Is that what you call it? Gilbert, oh yes! Stroke it!”

Mr Norrell avidly rubbed his hand up and down the underside of the shaft, feeling his own member stiffening further in response.

“Mmmm, Gilbert, that feels wonderful,” Mr Strange said softly, pressing forward until he could nuzzle under Mr Norrell’s loosened cravat to lick and suck at his neck. By now he was nearly on top of Mr Norrell, who made room for the larger body above him by moving his legs up and resting his heels on Mr Strange’s lower back. He fumbled at the buttons of Mr Strange’s placket and eventually managed to peel it away and reach inside the man’s smallclothes to free his stiff member.

Appreciatively Mr Norrell ran both hands up and down Mr Strange’s shaft as he heard the younger magician moaning with increasing desperation above him. He tried to thrust his own cock upward against Mr Strange, but his own arms interfered, and he twisted in frustration.

Mr Strange noticed his helplessness and slid downward slightly until he could free Mr Norrell’s completely rigid member. He quickly licked and kissed it up and down, listening with delight to the other magician’s enthusiastic keening, and finally took half of it into his mouth, sucking hard. Mr Norrell lost all control and used his legs, still embracing Mr Norrell’s torso, to try and thrust deeper into his lover’s throat. Mr Strange nearly choked but grabbed Mr Norrell’s hips and held them down, taking his cock deeper and moving up and down on the shaft and swirling his tongue around it. He glanced upward as Mr Norrell made a series of squeaking noises and finally sighed deeply and huffed as his seed spurted into Mr Strange’s welcoming mouth. Mr Strange swallowed at first but finally had to hastily pull out his handkerchief to wipe his mouth as Mr Norrell finished and slipped out.

Mr Norrell lay panting, clutching Mr Strange so that he, still on his knees, leaned awkwardly forward above him, listening to Mr Norrell’s soft little humming noises of contentment. He expected Mr Norrell to become drowsy, but he himself was anxious for relief—though how that could be achieved, he was not sure, given Mr Norrell’s lack of skill in such matters. He kissed Mr Norrell’s neck and face, hoping to keep him awake and ready for a further exchange of pleasure.

Soon Mr Norrell perked up and began to return the kisses, stretching down his hand again to feel Mr Strange’s erection. “What shall I do, Mr Strange? I want to give you pleasure, too.”

Mr Strange moaned. “That’s lovely, Gilbert.” 

He doubted, though, that Mr Norrell could bring him off manually. Something occurred to him. “There’s something that Arabella does when she cannot …” He realized that he did not want to start explaining a woman’s monthlies to the other man and concluded, “… um, cannot make love in the usual way.” He correctly doubted that Mr Norrell would express any interest in why that might occur.

Mr Strange looked over at the table and, as he expected, found the butter dish still half full. He pulled it to the edge of the low tea-table so that it was within reach and turned back to Mr Norrell. 

He urged Norrell to rise slightly and get onto his knees, facing the back of his chair and holding onto its back. Mr Strange pulled the other man’s breeches and smallclothes further down and instructed him to press his thighs firmly together. Mr Strange scooped up a generous dollop of butter, rolling it about with his fingers until it was partly melted. Pausing for a moment to think, he picked up two napkins spreading one on the chair in front of Mr Norrell’s thighs and laying the other one to hand on the arm of the chair.

Mr Strange’s cock had lost some of its hardness during all this, and he squeezed and stroked it as he spread the soft butter onto it.

Mr Norrell stretched his neck this way and that to look behind himself, watching these preparations curiously and without comment. Finally Mr Strange moved against him from behind, kneeling on the chair by placing his bent knees on either side of Mr Norrell’s lower legs. He slid his slick cock between the man’s thighs and gently began to thrust. He leaned forward to nuzzle against Mr Norrell’s neck and used his clean hand to pinch his nipples through his shirt.

“Does that feel good, Mr Strange?” Mr Norrell asked, trying to squeeze his thighs together harder.

“It’s very nice, Gilbert. I shall thoroughly enjoy this.”

“I hope so. I fear there is nothing that I can do to help, apart from staying in place.”

Strange was gasping with his rising pleasure, but he replied, “Oh, there is one thing.” He raised his hand from Mr Norrell’s chest and slid one finger across his lips. “Suck on it, Gilbert! As I sucked on your … um, member. Suck it hard each time I push forward.”

Mr Norrell tried to obey. He managed to take the finger in fairly deep and to swirl his tongue around it, though he found it impossible to suck fast enough to keep pace with Mr Strange’s rutting, especially as he became more and more excited. He did his best, however, and did seem to please Mr Strange. Rather to Mr Norrell’s surprise, he found the process somewhat pleasing as well.

“I’m so close,” Mr Strange managed to say. “Pick up the … handkerchief and catch my seed with it.”

Mr Norrell had to let the finger slip out of his mouth in order to do so. He spread the cloth across his hand and held it against the middle of his thighs. At once Mr Strange’s body stiffened against his, and he uttered strangled groans that diminished as his bliss drained away.

Mr Strange stayed unmoving for a short time before seizing the second napkin and wiping his shrinking cock and the insides of Mr Norrell’s thighs clean. They both twisted around and inserted themselves into the chair, designed for one, so that they were sitting pressed tightly together, their arms around each other. They enjoyed the after-effects of their climaxes for a few minutes.

Mr Norrell’s wig had fallen off at some point during their activities, and Mr Strange pressed his nose into the man’s short, thick, curly hair.

“Mmmm, you smell nice.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, faintly of chocolate and strongly of old books, with a whiff of almond. That last must have come from the biscuit you nibbled at.”

“Yes, it was an almond biscuit. I barely noticed at the time.”

Mr Strange nuzzled against his neck.

Mr Norrell said, just to make certain, “You enjoyed all this, then?”

“Assuredly yes, Gilbert! Ah, I could imagine sitting with you before the fire for hours, savouring what we have just done and talking.”

Mr Norrell frowned slightly. Maybe Mr Strange had not meant all that he had said about their parting, professionally? How could he have been willing to do what they had just done otherwise? Maybe he had just been teazing? Mr Norrell knew that he still did not well understand what teazing was, but he was aware that Mr Strange did it quite frequently. Sometimes Mr Norrell found it charming, but at other times it frustrated him. Might this be one of those times? But why be so unkind?

Mr Norrell tried sniffing at Mr Strange’s hair. It simply smelled like Mr Strange, in his opinion, but he said, “I am not quite sure what you smell of, but it is quite delightful. I could hold my nose against you for hours as well.”

Mr Strange chuckled and kissed his cheek. 

Soon Mr Strange glanced at the clock and stood up, fastening and straightening his clothing. Mr Norrell did likewise.

As they finished, Mr Norrell asked, “Does this mean that we can stay together after all, Jonathan? We love each other, and …”

Mr Strange looked down at the floor sadly and shook his head. “I am afraid not, Gilbert. Yes, I have a great deal of affection for you, but as I said, I cannot leave Bell or betray her again. What we have just done must not be repeated. It was … Well, what was it? Our acknowledgement of our fondness for each other and our farewell to our period as teacher and pupil. A … a reassurance that we do not part in anger.” 

He did not look as though he was particularly convinced of all this himself. Mr Norrell continued to stare at him uncertainly.

Mr Strange finally sighed. “Well, perhaps we could continue work together to some extent. Your idea of our meeting at my house, with Bell nearby, might be feasible.” He fell silent. Mr Norrell again noted the lack of conviction in his voice. 

Mr Strange finally stared into his eyes. “Even setting her aside, though, if you and I were free to love each other, I fear that we could never reconcile our ideas about magic. Our differences on so many fundamental aspects of our calling in life remain the basic reason why I feel we must go our separate ways. When you come right down to it, we are simply too stubborn, both of us. I cannot imagine any situation so momentous that it could bring us even a little closer to each other in our beliefs about our approaches to magic. Can you? Can you picture me deciding that summoning a Fairy servant was after all not a particularly interesting goal? Or you telling me that, well, perhaps such a thing was intriguing enough to be worth the risk?” He grinned doubtfully at Mr Norrell, who managed to summon a wobbly little smile in response and shook his head.

Mr Norrell felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he determined not to shed them in front of Mr Strange. He said slowly, “Even so, I do so wish there were some way …”

Mr Strange saw the unshed tears and felt a sharp pang of remorse. “Please, Gilbert, do not be so upset. Really, I am not worth it.”

Mr Norrell leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Mr Strange’s chest. In a whisper he said, “You are worth anything to me.”

Mr Strange stared sadly down at him for a moment. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. “Please, Gilbert …” he started again, but he could think of no consolation to offer. 

Mr Norrell stepped back and stood up straight. After staring at Mr Strange’s waistcoat for a while he took a deep breath and said rather stiffly, “I apologize, Mr Strange, for leading you to be unfaithful to your wife. You have resisted all such temptation for quite some time, and yet I was not strong enough to respect that resistance.”

“Oh, I was more the one to blame. You need not feel guilty. At any rate I doubt this one occasion will destroy my marriage. I am determined that it shall not. Still, as I said, it must remain the only time it happens. You … do accept that, don’t you?”

Mr Norrell took a deep breath and nodded, though it cost him a great deal to do so.

Mr Strange weakly assumed his ironic grin. “I hope at least you enjoyed it.”

Mr Norrell’s eyes widened, and he simply exclaimed, “It was marvelous!” His flash of joy faded quickly, and he said uncertainly, “Oddly enough, I do think knowing that you have such affection for me makes our parting easier for me. I know that we are not parting with hatred in our hearts for each other. We remain friends and shall see each other socially, as you say, and, I suppose, stubbornly maintain our separate attitudes toward magic. I could wish that you would be more cautious and reasonable, but I know by now how unlikely that is. I only hope that our stubbornness does not drive us entirely apart, despite our … friendship for each other.”

“Well, it has so far failed to kill our friendship. Oh, it is nearly eight thirty! Bell will be wondering what is keeping me, though she knows that I meant to have this conversation with you and that it might become … complicated. Not THIS complicated to be sure, but … I should go.”

Mr Norrell attempted to smile. “Yes. I shan’t even ask you for a last kiss.”

“Well, I shall give it you without being asked.” His lips caught Mr Norrell’s and gently moved against them for a long time. When he pulled away, he grinned again and said, “I doubt that that will destroy my marriage, either.”

Mr Norrell again managed to smile. “If you go on making that excuse, eventually we might do something that would. But no, I am also determined that that shall not happen.” He paused, looking around the library. “I am afraid that tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, when you do not appear for your lesson as usual, I shall feel quite lost. I shall have to learn to do without our marvelous conversations.”

“As shall I.”

“Yes. Well, Jonathan, at least we might meet at some event, perhaps Lord Dalrymple’s dinner party next week.”

“No, I’m afraid not. Bell and I are planning to move to our Shropshire house in three days’ time.”

Norrell’s fixed, polite smile abruptly disappeared. “Shropshire? Move?” he managed to say, though his throat was tight.

Mr Strange looked at the floor and sighed. “Yes, we plan to spend two or three months there, maybe more. I am sorry. I promised Bell.” He hesitated and then said with forced eagerness, looking around the room, anywhere but at Norrell, “She has conceded that while we are there I may work on magic for a few hours a day for four or five days a week. Otherwise, she and I shall … enjoy being together. Rest assured, though, that the time will pass, and we shall return to the social whirl of London. You and I shall not be strangers!”

Norrell stared at him. “Oh,” he finally said. He was shocked at this sudden revelation. Why had Mr Strange not told him before? He had just declared his love, at least, love of some sort, and they had been intimate in a way that Mr Norrell had dreamed of for years. Yet now Mr Strange did not seem terribly upset to be leaving London—and him—for a long stretch of time. Mr Norrell felt almost dizzy and longed to sit down, but he forged ahead in his struggle to be calm and courteous about his lover’s departure. 

“Yes, yes, of course, we shall not. Well, I … wish you a pleasant stay at, um …”

“Ashfair.”

“At Ashfair, yes. It’s so far away, Shropshire. Well, I shall look forward to your return … Mr Strange.”

“Thank you, Gilbert. Good night!”

“Good night, Mr Strange.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Mr Strange had come to Hanover-square on foot, since Arabella had need of the carriage that day. She had embarked upon an ambitious redecoration of the first floor of their house on Soho-square, to be accomplished while they were away in Shropshire, and frequently visited establishments that created such transformations at considerable expense.

As Mr Strange walked along Hanover-square toward Oxford-street, he noticed that several people in the houses lining the square were watching him from their windows and that a number of servants seemed to be lingering about for the sole purposes of seeing him pass. 

He sniffed with annoyance. He had become used to such unwelcome inquisitiveness, since he and Mr Norrell were quite famous as a result of their effective contributions to the war effort. Their appearances at balls and parties were consistently covered in the social columns in the newspapers. Moreover, quick-spreading rumours of a coming rift between the two in the wake of Mr Strange’s savage review of Lord Portishead’s book had caused considerable speculation and excitement. 

The emotional parting between the two magicians, however, was a very private matter, and he winced at the thought of what public opinion would be if it was known that they had performed intimate acts together. He pulled his collar up to keep the January wind away from his face and walked faster, seeking to escape the prying eyes. As he hurried along, he wondered once more, as he often had, whether he had been right to publish his review of the Portishead volume. It had to be done, he assured himself again, and sighed.

Upon reaching home, he delivered his cold outer garments to Mary and went into the sitting-room to see Arabella. She told him that she had dined already and was going over some swatches of material for the new curtains in their bedroom, which was to be redecorated while they were away. A cold supper had been left for him, she said. He assured her that after his parting with Norrell—which he told her had been sad but definitive—he preferred to take a quiet meal alone. She nodded sympathetically and asked him to join her in their bedroom after he had finished.

As Mr Strange sat eating, he pondered what had happened at Hanover-square and to what extent he actually loved Norrell. What he had not told his master was that during his time in Portugal during the war, he had had recourse to the sort of comfort that he had described to Mr Norrell as passing between soldiers. He had enjoyed it considerably more than he had expected. Fortunately Mr Norrell had not asked him how he had gained skill in giving oral pleasure to another man, but he in fact had a fair amount of practice in that regard.

But casual pleasure of that sort was not the point. His witnessing of love between two males while in the Peninsula had led him to speculate after his return to England on the same sort of thing with his tutor. Recognizing Mr Norrell’s love for him had led him to consider his own feelings. On a few occasions he had idly daydreamed at some length about what life would be like if he left Arabella and moved in with Mr Norrell as his companion and lover. He had never really seriously pursued all of the ramifications—the questions of divided property or the blot that might fall upon his social reputation through gossip about such an unusual domestic arrangement as his living in Mr Norrell’s house. In short, the idea of being Mr Norrell’s lover rather than Arabella’s husband had merely been a pleasantly idle fantasy.

As to pursuing an affair with Mr Norrell in secret while remaining married to Arabella, that had been another situation which he imagined. Surprisingly, the main obstacle he saw to that was the fact that it would be so unkind to Mr Norrell. It would no doubt disturb the other magician’s sense of morality and respectability, as well as placing Mr Norrell in an inevitably inferior position to his wife. Rather like a “kept woman,” though instead another man, a wealthy one who hardly needed keeping.

The main result of all his cogitations over his solitary meal was to regret what he had said to Mr Norrell and done with him after that pathetic little sharing of tea. He had in effect betrayed his secret affection and longing to the other magician while having no intention of ever giving in to those feelings. And then, to make things worse, he had straightaway given in to them, thereby betraying Arabella and misleading Mr Norrell.

By the time he rose from the table to go up and join his wife, he felt quite miserable. He wished he could take back the intimacy that had passed between him and Mr Norrell, wonderful though it had been at the time, but there was no possibility of that. He told himself that months passed apart during his and Arabella’s absence in Shropshire would be the best thing for both him and Mr Norrell. He paused at the door and cursed himself for thinking such a thing, knowing full well that Mr Norrell would gain nothing but misery by the lengthy parting. He pondered for a while, but he could think of no way to change their situation for the better. On top of everything, he already knew that Mr Norrell had been right. He would desperately miss being able to discuss magic with his ex-tutor. It was his own arrogance that had led him to refuse Mr Norrell’s extraordinary outburst of honesty and humility and generosity, and he could not deny to himself that both of them would suffer the consequences. 

He went up to the bedroom, where Arabella delightedly held up the swatches she had decided upon and described to him how, upon their eventual return to London, they would brighten up the room. He forced a smile and praised her choices, all the while yearning to be in Shropshire, where he might forget for a time the mixture of conflict and misunderstanding and longing that had made his situation in relation to Mr Norrell so fraught with misery for them both. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Mr Norrell had sat back down heavily in his chair as soon as Mr Strange had left. He stared in some bafflement after the man. How could Strange confess to loving him, no matter how mildly, and even be intimate with him when he was about to go away for months with his wife? He contemplated how bleak his life would be for that long interval. He somehow had thought that they had come close to agreeing to work together at Mr Strange’s house, at least for part of the week. Separation from Mr Strange when they were in the same city and would see each other, albeit less regularly and often, was bad enough, but to know that the other magician was in such a distant place as Shropshire, beyond the possibility of a planned or a chance meeting, was far, far worse. And even once the couple returned after three months, but might they not make a habit of these abrupt departures for long periods spent in their country home? What if they had children? What if they decided to sell their London house?

He stared forlornly at the carpet. He wondered what the implications of their wonderful interlude of amorous congress were. Did Mr Strange love him, even just a little? Or had Mr Strange simply been attempting to console him for their parting? He could hardly believe such a thing of his former pupil, and yet, whatever Mr Strange had intended, here he was, alone, left behind. He almost wished that their shared pleasure had not happened, much though he knew he would treasure its memory for his entire life.

Mr Strange had said that they were both too stubborn to compromise on their views of English magic. He supposed that in general that might be true. There was the basic principle of not depending on Fairy aid that neither seemed capable of agreeing on. And yet he had made every other concession to Mr Strange that he could think of. Had he really been so very stubborn? It seemed to him that during their conversation he might have been less stubborn that at any other point in his adult life. Much good it had done him.

Such thoughts seemed to linger for hours, but only ten minutes after Mr Strange’s departure, Henry Lascelles was shown into the library.

“Is he gone?” he asked, looking at the uneaten biscuits on Norrell’s plate and the cold tea in his cup.

Mr Norrell did not feel capable of replying to such a foolish question. Obviously Mr Strange was gone.

Mr Lascelles sat down in the chair Mr Strange had occupied, staring at Mr Norrell with a little frown. Speaking more sharply, he said, “Our conditions? How did he receive them? … Mr Norrell? You told him what we agreed? You told him that unless he publishes a retraction we shall be forced to reveal what we know of the Black Magic done in Spain? You told him that under no circumstances would you accept him any longer as a pupil?”

Mr Norrell felt a feeble flare of resentment at Mr Lascelles’ demanding questions. Really, they had heard only the vaguest, unconfirmed things about the Black Magic Mr Strange had supposedly done in Spain, and yet Mr Lascelles was ready to use it to blackmail the other magician. And why should Mr Lascelles have any say as to whether he would continue to teach Mr Strange? As so often happened, however, he did not feel capable of contradicting Mr Lascelles, whose personality was so much more forceful than his own. Finally he raised his eyes to the other man’s face and said listlessly, “No, I said none of those things.”

“But …”

Mr Norrell felt almost overwhelmed with misery. He sighed and shook his head. “It does not matter what I said to him. He is gone.”

Mr Lascelles’ frown deepened, but Mr Norrell refused to acknowledge it, returning his eyes to the carpet.

Mr Lascelles considered for a moment and shrugged. “You were right in the beginning, sir. There can be only one magician in England.”

Mr Norrell finally looked at him, curious as to what he might mean. It occurred to him to wonder whether from the moment he had met Strange he should have discouraged him from being a magician. Refused to teach him, downplayed his talents to the government officials, sent him back to Shropshire with his tail between his legs. He would never have shared the joys of magic with Strange for those few years when he had taught the younger magician his craft—but at least he would not feel so desolate now.

With that, Mr Lascelles seized the opportunity to intensify his campaign to turn Mr Norrell against the man he loved. 

 

The two magicians would not see each other for two years, and yet when they did meet again, they realized that, far from quarreling over wanting Fairy servants, they themselves were the servants of a Fairy King. Their stubbornness disappeared. Together they often took tea—and more—in the Darkness, and they were content.


End file.
